


Of Russian spies and polar bears

by babydragon7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Boys In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydragon7/pseuds/babydragon7
Summary: “No, I mean. You must have a favorite food, right? Something from home? Buckweed porridge? Pickled cucumbers? Something?”Ilya chews his lip. “Boiled sweet condensed milk”.“What?”Food is the best conversation topic, really. Or Napoleon has a seduction plan.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 124





	Of Russian spies and polar bears

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine. But they make my days better.
> 
> Writing this instead of working, what else is new?

“Listen, Peril. What do you like to eat?”

Ilya looks up from his chessboard and frowns:

“Tonight?”

“No, no. Like in general, what’s your favorite thing?”

“Anything” Ilya answers with a shrug, and Napoleon just sighs.

It’s true. Ilya is not fussy, anything Napoleon cooks, Peril devours and asks for seconds. Napoleon experiments – spicy and sweet, sour and tangy – Gaby tells him that his truffle risotto smells like feet, and Ilya cleans the second plate cheerfully. 

Food is the only sort of compliment Ilya would accept, the only sort of bribe. It seems to Napoleon he should base his courting on food as well. They could start simple, with a hug, or a kiss on the cheek after a great meal, and then – if Napoleon plays it well, things might progress even further. If he has read the signs right of course. Thankfully, Ilya is not very subtle. Judging by Ilya’s appetite, he would be insatiable in bed. And Napoleon wants to be enjoyed, he wants to be consumed. Anyway – first food, then sex, and after, maybe… who knows?

“No, I mean. You must have a favorite food, right? Something from home? Buckweed porridge? Pickled cucumbers? Something?”

Ilya chews his lip. “Boiled sweet condensed milk”.

“What?”

Ilya looks at him with pity. “You don’t have that here. First, you buy a sweet condensed milk in a can, and then you boil it. In the can. You have to watch it, so it does not explode…”

Napoleon laughs, “So you like your food dangerous, Peril?”

“Shut it, Cowboy. You put it on low heat and after two-three hours, you open the can, and it is like heaven. It is creamy, and tastes like molten caramel. The best thing ever. Loved it as a kid”.

“Oh”, that is the first time Ilya has ever mentioned his childhood, so Napoleon approaches the chair, where Ilya is sitting, anxious to know more, mesmerized by a dreamy look his favorite Russian is sporting.

“Something else?” Napoleon asks, thinking it should be easy to bring some cans to US; he has many connections after all. 

Ilya seems to go into some sort of a dreamland; he has a half-smile on his face, he looks… contented.  
“’Мишка на севере’ Chocolate-waffle candy. Polar bear drawing on a wrapper. I loved it so much; I even learned everything I could about polar bears. Did you know Soviet Union has the biggest polar bear population in the world now?

“Does it?”

“Yes. It is prohibited to hunt them”.

Napoleon thinks of polar bears, and how Ilya reminds him of a polar bear cub, grumpy, but adorable.

“Is this candy still being made? I might smuggle some for you, out of a spirit of international cooperation”.  
‘Also to see you smile’ he does not say.

However, Ilya’s face clouds and he looks, not angry exactly, but resigned, a bit broken.

“That’s kind of you. I stopped eating them, you see. When my dad was arrested, and my mom started to have… suitors, they would often bring me this candy. And I stopped loving it”.

Napoleon feels sucker punched. His hands start to shake with rage. Guilt rises in his throat like a bile. What he did not know when he first met Ilya and read his file, is that Ilya had been very… lucky. If his mother would not cooperate, she and Ilya would have the label “wife and child of the enemy of the State” attached to them. Which meant a total dead-end and possibly a work camp. God, Napoleon hates himself for his mean words, but there are people he hates much more. They took it all, Ilya’s happiness and childhood. They even took his favorite candy away. Bastards, the lot of them.

Ilya is surprised, when Napoleon suddenly drops to his knees on the carpet in front of him.

“Listen, Peril”, he whispers urgently, darkly. “I could find them for you, your mother former suitors, and kill them. No one would be able to pin it on me. No connection to you, I promise”.

The way Ilya looks at him is… Napoleon forgot how it felt, to have such tenderness directed at him.

“They are all dead by now. Some have died during the war. Some had unfortunate accidents after. I… Thank you. It means a lot to me that you offered”.

The time has slowed to molasses. Ilya reaches and touches the side of Napoleon’s face, cradles his cheek in his big warm hand, and the way Ilya looks at him is sweeter than any chocolate could ever be.

XXX

Napoleon managed to get a hold on a small bag of Ilya’s favorite candy. They are a little molten, but well. He takes a bite, chews, swallows – ah, very good – and marches right into the common room where Ilya is sitting. Napoleon kisses him deeply, lets himself drown, lets Ilya lick around his mouth, suck on his tongue, and devour him.

“Why?” Ilya asks when he manages to leave his mouth for a second.

“Wanted you to regain a good memory of your favorite candy”, Napoleon smirks and dives back in.

Unfortunately, they are rudely interrupted a couple of minutes later and have to give whole bag of candy to Gaby, in retribution for a “public assault on her eyes”.  
It is a pity. Napoleon will just need to get more, seeing he acquired a taste for them now. While they wait for a new delivery, they will just have to make due with boiled condensed milk, Napoleon thinks as he drags Ilya to the bedroom.


End file.
